


Point-blank Love

by TuskFM



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate universe - Mafia, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Steve is the boss and James his second in command, Wine, i guess? they're pretty lovey-dovey so, plus this is a typical day for them so it totally count as domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 12:16:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19701196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuskFM/pseuds/TuskFM
Summary: James may be the second most important person in the Irish mafia, but that doesn't mean he's not sweet on his fella.Anything for him.





	Point-blank Love

**Author's Note:**

> Working title : Mafia love  
> Second working title : Street kill
> 
> My love for the Luke Cage netflix series plus my adoration for Mahershala Ali (both his acting and the character he play) pushed me to write this.  
> Please enjoy this rather self indulgent piece of work.
> 
> James kills someone with some graphic details, if you want to skip it, the description is in only one paragraph from "Please, Barnes!" to "He huffs"

James walks in the street, swinging his steps and the metal bat by his side. He feels his gun against his hip, a comfortable weight tucked away in his holster. But some matters need special attention, not the impersonal feeling of a bullet. 

“Well, hello there. What do we have here?” James asks with a grin. He looks down at the man kneeling behind the trash. James’ two other men have already given Marc a taste, but they stepped back, letting him take care of the rest. His nose is dripping, and his right eye is already swollen shut. 

“Cut the crap Barnes.” He growls, spitting blood at his shoes. “Don’t play nice when you’ve got a fucking bat in your hands.” 

“Who said I wasn’t civilized? You know I’d rather talk like adults, grown up men that were given good manners by their mothers. We’re not animals, are we?” He smiles and look around him. This street is only two blocks down Marc’s house. He'll be easy to find. “You think we can manage that, huh?” He looks back at Marc who just stare at him with all the rage he can put into one eye. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. I will talk, and you’ll listen, since you don’t seem willing to do much of the talking part.” He crouches in front of him and point his finger at Marc before he continues softly, as if he was inviting him in the confidence. “You, little rat, hijacked one of Mr. Rogers’s drug deal. No, no, no.” He waves a finger in front of his face. “Don't say a word. Your buddy Joe gave you up about five minutes after we caught him. And you know Mr. Rogers. He likes to protect his city, to protect his people, but if his people don’t respect him or his work....” James shakes his head and click his tongue, three short repetitions. 

“I didn’t took nothing from Rogers!” Marc almost looks like he’s begging. He’s not there yet though. 

“That’s Mr. Rogers to you, maggot.” He pushes his bat to the middle of Marc’s chest, losing the grin he previously had on. “Have some respect. For lack of honor and self-esteem, show him some.” He straightens up and let the bat hit the ground with a cold thud. “Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, you stealing money from Mr. Rogers. See, we know what happened. You see the size of those deals, how much money it makes. And you’re tired of watching but not touching, you get greedy. So you take what’s not yours to take.” James almost growls the last few words, now looking down at him. 

“That’s not what you think!” Marc yells. “I did it for my mom!” 

“Your mother?” He raises an eyebrow in a ‘I'm interested, you may continue’ kind of way. 

“She’s sick! And she needs a doctor and I can’t pay for it. I needed the money for her.” 

“Oh Marc, Marc, Marc...” James shakes his head. “You know Mr. Rogers. These streets are his family. You need something? You ask for it.” He makes a broad motion with his hands. “He will give it to you, if you’re part of the family. And you were, Marc. You were part of it. Before you decided to go and steal like the rat you are.” 

“Ask him? And what? Be in debt with him? Have to work for him for years? No thanks! I ain’t no dog like you, I like my freedom!” Marc tells him. James just smirks and shakes his head. For a long moment he just stares, before he clicks his tongue and gently swing the bat next to his hip. 

“What do you think. Since you started accepting our protection, paying for our services, since you took part in the family, you were in debt with Mr. Rogers, and he owed you things. Maybe not actively, but we did owe you something, just like you do owe us. That’s how family works. You give and you are given things. You stay faithful to Mr. Rogers, you get to live fine, in a warm house with food and money to pay for what you need. That’s trust, and you broke that Marc. You fucked up.” James says. “You fucked up real bad. And you know what? You done fucking up things in his city.” 

“I am! I'll never do it again, I promise. I won’t steal from Rogers ever again!” 

“That’s Mr. Rogers to you, rat. And you know what has to be done.” James explains, taking hold of the bat with both hands. 

“Come on, Barnes! Come on, I won’t do it again. I'll move city, I'll go far away, to the west coast! You’ll never see me again, not you, not Mr. Rogers, I swear. Please!” And this, right now, this is begging. Sweet music to James’s ears. 

“Marc, please, have some dignity. You know how it works. I don't make the rules; I merely apply them. You break the trust? I break your pathetic face.” He spit out the last word and take one step back, lift the bat to his head. 

“Please, Barnes! Please, please!” He’s cut off by the metal violently hitting his face, the crushing sound his skull makes, along with the organic splash of flesh splitting and coloring the bricks walls. James hits him again once, enough to make sure he’s dead but his face is still recognizable to let the words spread in the streets. 

He huffs and step back, taking his time to take deep breath after another, calming his blood down. James hold his hand behind himself, and takes the tissue he’s given to swipe off his hands, and face before roughly cleaning the metal bat. He hands the bat back but push the tissue in his pocket after carefully tucking the dirtied parts inside so it doesn’t stain his own pants. They’re custom-made after all. 

“You know what to do with that.” He tells the younger boy, who vigorously nod. 

“Yeah, make sure it’s clean, bleach, then store it.” He reels out carefully. 

“You do that kid.” James pat his shoulder before making himself presentable again: a quick hand through his hair, he straightens his jacket and pants and tug at his sleeves, everything back as it should be in no time. He reaches for his phone in his breast pocket to dial Steve all while walking away without sparing a look at the body. 

“Hey Mister.” A faint smirk colors James’s face. “Yeah, it’s taken care of.” He silently listens a few moments as he steps out of the dead-end. “Alright, be there in fifteen.” He hangs up and calls the two other boy to him. 

“You both did great. I don’t have anything for you anymore today, you’re free, but imma need you tomorrow to go collect some due money. Nine o’clock, be at the club.” He tugs a few bills out of his pocket to give them, and wave them away. 

“Thanks boss.” He hears the kid says, but he’s already stopped listening. He has more important places he ought to be. 

“Mr. Rogers?” James pushes the heavy mahogany doors and step inside the office. He rarely takes the front door, but the sight he walks to is truly one to witness. Steve is sitting behind his desk, he lost his jacket, as well as his tie and a couple of buttons. His careful part in his blond hair is all messed up, and the way he’s hunched over the piles of paper on his desk tells James that it was a day spent counting stocks and planning the next year alliances and production. But the worst of all is, Steve rolled up his sleeves, and the sight of his tattoos up his forearms... Yeah, James likes it very much. 

Steve looks up from his papers and the initial frown over his face loosen when he sees who’s walking in. He lay his pen over the papers in front of him before gently sitting back in his chair. By all means he should look small and frail in this huge leather chair, eaten by the sheer mass of it. And yet, he looks more powerful than ever, arms sprawled over the armrest and his head barely lolling to the right. He looks like he belongs here more than anywhere else. 

“What do you want, I'm busy.” His expression hardens and James can’t help but give him a cheeky smirk. He closes the doors behind him happily makes his way to the desk. He let himself fall in one of the twin chair set in front of it. They’re both leather too, but James knows by experience that the one on the other side is the best. 

“Well, that’s too bad, cause you’re gonna have to make time for me.” He brings his hand out of his back to show Steve the bottle in his hand, deep burgundy shining in the golden lights. “Because I just bought a bottle of _chateau mouton Rothschild_ with me,” James deftly pronounces the French, making sure to spare a glance at Steve who still blushes when he hears him speak another language. “And I planned to drink it all while indecently laying on your satin sheet.” As he says the last part, he leans an arm over the desk and show off the bottle’s label, making sure his lips parts slightly, just like his legs. At that Steve’s stern face cracks and he looks down for a moment. His eyes are gleaming when he looks up. 

“Will there be jazz?” He asks, entertaining James's act. 

“There will be Jazz. As well as rose petals and not one,” James half closes his eyes and drop his voice. “single, piece of clothes in sight. How’s that sound, huh?” He winks, and Steve walk over to the other side of the desk. 

“Sounds nice sweetheart.” He takes the bottle out of his hand to set it on the desk behind them and smoothly sit over James’s thighs, one knee on either side and both hands in his hair. 

“Mmm, hi.” James says, and Steve doesn’t bother with words. He pushes a kiss on James’s lips, which he gladly returns. He wishes it lasted longer; he barely got a taste that Steve is already pulling back. 

“Hey.” He drags his fingers along his jawline, cool and soft in this hot summer night. “How did it go?” He asks instead, and James is honest to god this close to whine, right there in the middle of his office. 

“Always business before fun, right?” James shakes his head and tap Steve’s hips. The latter steps down and walk back until his hips are pushed against the desk. He crosses his arms, and James will always be amazed at how quickly Steve can change his state of mind as well as body language. Because right now, James absolutely cannot stop thinking about kissing him. 

“There, look at that.” He fishes the stained tissue out of his pocket and throws it at Steve. He catches it and shake it open before looking at the blood over it. “Head smashed and dead in the gutter. Two blocks down his home too. He will be found before dusk, and I already put Dum Dum on the police. By tomorrow night he’ll be another victim of a simple mugging.” James explains as Steve folds back the tissue and pushes it in his own pocket. 

He nods once and walk over to the back door, catching his jacket and tie on the way there. He turns around with a hand around the handle, offering one of his rare but so blinding smile. 

“Well, come on. The wine’s not gonna drink itself.” And James feels like the luckiest fella in town tonight, as he does every other night since he turned fourteen. He takes no time to jump from his seat and grab the bottle by the neck. Afterall, there are two glasses and a set of satin sheets waiting for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Watch me googling _expensive wine_ , _best wine in the entire world_ and _i know nothing about wine and i want to sound pretentious_
> 
> If you liked it leave a kudos!


End file.
